Desiderium
by flight of the mockinjay
Summary: Scandals, secrets, lies and pain: we all have Desires, but at what cost are we willing to go to make them ours? / / I suck at writing these things. Story is better than it sounds AU, slash & lemons


**Chapter One**

**AN: This story will contain lemons if it goes according to plan. Not your thing? I suggest you don't read it.**

**I also just wanted to let everybody know, in case anyone tries to start a fight about it, if I continue this fic is **_**will**_** be loosely based on the story of Patrick and Brad from Perks of Being a Wallflower. It will not be exactly the same and I shall try as hard as I can to keep it as fresh and original as possible but for the first few chapters you possibly will see similarities.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own MI or Malec, that's all Cassandra. Much as I wish I could say the boys were mine **

- x – x – x – x – x –

"Move those thighs, Wayland!" A lone voice screams out, hidden behind the screams and shouts of hormone-powered teenagers. That's one thing Magnus doesn't miss about his adolescence; the fucking _hormones_. While he still _is_ undeniably as Magnus Bane as he's ever been, throwing bitch fits at least bi-weekly, at least he no longer comes off like a girl having the painters in.

"Oh, I'd like to see a _lot_ more of Jace Wayland than just his thighs, Maggie." The cool voice of Camille Belcourt purrs into her best friend's ear, coaxing a low chuckle from his throat.

"Hmm." He remarks in response, his lips quipping ever so much at the edges. "I'm sure it'd be a sight to see, though I doubt the biggest player in Washington Heights Prep is _really _my type."

Camille gasps with laughter for a second, her eyes flicking to the leather-clad boy to her left. "Oh hun, he has a pulse… That _alone_ makes him your type." She jokes, elbowing her long-time friend playfully in the side. Magnus chuckles quietly to himself, his purposely arced spikes dancing haphazardly in front of his eyes. His teeth glitter in the light of the bleachers with tooth chalk, something that Magnus had spent the better half of the evening trying to convince Camille is 'highly chic in Europe'`, making him stand out to everyone around. Magnus has always been well known among the Washington Heights community to be a little bit 'outrageous' with his concept of style, one of the things that didn't change as he left high school.

Magnus looks out onto the field, his eyes searching for one player in particular, though it is this one only that he wouldn't call obscenities to about what he would _love_ to do to their body. Alec Lightwood charges through the field, football cradled in his arms. His eyes darken with determination and passion, his teeth flashing with his a bone-deep hunger for the game. The crowd explodes, cheering for their quarterback, their star, and Magnus feels his heart leap just looking at him. Alec Lightwood had always affected him in unexplainable ways; maybe that's what he liked about him.

Alex makes it to the goal, the final buzzer going off milliseconds after and then the world around Magnus _really_ goes crazy. Students everywhere cry with joy, squeezing their friends tightly. Magnus feels his ear drums bursting from the pressure of the noise but this is something he's used to whenever he comes to these games. Calmly, he smiles, his hands rising to clap ever so slightly. Out on the field he sees Alec run to his girlfriend of four years, Aline Penhalllow. She leaps into his arms, where he twirls her around three times before letting her go. Alec's eyes then look into the crowd, desperation clear in his eyes. Finally, he finds what he was seeking, the cat-like eyes (thanks to French contacts) of one Magnus Bane. They stare at each other for a solid ten seconds, their lips quipping into gentle smiles, before one of Alec's team members jumps on his back, chortling obnoxiously into his ear.

Magnus grins brightly, turning to the blonde by his side. "We _all_ know I never actually come here for the football,-" his comrade begins, her eyes alight with happiness, "-but even I must admit, that was pretty impressive. If it hadn't been for that final goal _so close_ to the buzzer we wouldn't be in the grand final next week." She sighs, glancing down to the field. "Alec's a pretty amazing guy." She adds as an afterthought.

Magnus follows her gaze, smiling ever so slightly when he sees the team being showered with confetti. "Yeah," he sighs, "He really is."

The pair stay seated for a moment, just watching all that used to be the closest thing they had to a home, until they stand, an unspoken cue between them. They follow the stairs down the bleachers, Camille practically strutting in order to make the most of her booty shorts that leave _nothing _to the imagination. Magnus finds his way to the foot of the bleachers, whistling piercingly loud in order to get the attention of everyone. Realizing who it is, most people shut up for the moment, already knowing what he has to say but excitedly awaiting the news anyway.

Magnus smirks, his cat's eyes flashing different colours thanks to a trick of the light. "Party at The Siren's Song. First drink half price." With a wink, the Duo leave the masses in a riot of euphuism, exiting to set up their club for the inevitable all-nighter it was about to endure.

- x – x – x – x – x –

The Siren's Song was easily the most frequented club by Manhattan's youth, the status it had held for the previous five years. Such status was not obtained easily; it was for good reason that teenagers flocked to the club as if they were chickens to seed. The Siren's Song was known as the place fun was invented, the place memories were made, where reputations rose and fell, where those who love found their match and those who lust found cure to their impossible hunger. The Siren's Song was a place of parties; it was never empty, though not usually quite as full as it was on the night the Washington Heights' Panthers made their way into their grand finale.

Music heavily-laced with bass thudded from The Siren's Song until the early hours of the morning that night. Victory was more of a drug to the teenagers of Washington Heights than cocaine, shooting through their systems and leaving them buzzed beyond belief.

The whole night passed as if it were Earth's final night and this was everyone's last chance to live; their last chance to drink, to dance, to hook-up, to sleep together, to confess to sins long buried. From their place behind the bar, the Dynamic Duo that made Magnus and Camille observed everything, continuing to pass out drinks well after three a.m. just for the kicks of seeing their ex-peers throw themselves on one another. It was at four that the club finally started winding down, leaving only a few scarce couples grinding into each other on the floor. A quick headcount told Magnus of only twelve conscious beings still occupied space under the dizzying glow of the club lights, not including himself and Camille. Twisting to face his comrade, he arches an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Feel like you'd be right closing up doll? I think my bed's a little bit too warm and I'm a little bit too cold for my liking." Camille sighs playfully, her lips quipping into a smirk.

"Have I _ever_ said no to you baby? Of _course_ I'll close up. I wanted to test the waters anyway." She quips, winking out to Jordan Kyle, who simply grins in reply. Magnus rolls his eyes, already lifting opening the door that serves as a barrier between the tenders and the tended.

"Aren't he and Maia Roberts engaged or something?" He jokes, not really caring too much. When you've known someone for as long as Magnus has known Camille it becomes kind of hard to judge them. Plus, if he had even the slightest inkling that Jordan was his type, he wouldn't have just splashed the waters; he would have cannon-bombed in them.

"And I have a gold fish." She retorts, an old inside joke started back in eighth grade to insinuate something is irrelevant.

"Good night darling. Use protection. And don't let the girlfriend find out. Or at least be a little bit creative with your excuse this time." Magnus farewells, bidding the blonde a goodnight peck before making his way up the stairs to the resident section of the building.

The Siren's Song had started out as a shabby motel, usually only inhabited for short durations of time by upper class men and their not-so-upper class female companions. Eventually the founder, 24-year old Richard Wilson, who possibly depended on daddy's credit card a little bit _too_ much, realised the potential alcohol posed to the establishment. Five years later and the entire lower half of the building had been renovated into a club, the upper half renovated into a myriad of apartments and offices. Said apartments were more often than not vacant, apart from the occasional drunk who simply could _not_ find their way home or the few permanent residents.

Both Magnus and Camille fell under the umbrella of permanent residents. The two had obtained their bartending status at the age of sixteen, the same age that they gained independence from their homes. After Magnus had become cosy with Richard to say the least, their residency had been confirmed and they had lived there ever since.

Magnus hums quietly as he passes door after door, finally reaching his own at the end of the hall. Though it's been the cause of many drunken stumbles at unsightly hours and even a few nights when the walk just seemed endless and Magnus simply decided it was just that much easier to simply sleep in the middle of the hallway, it was the last room with the most privacy and the best view… and of course the biggest closet.

With the door locked tightly behind him, Magnus inhales deeply, taking in his home of the past five years. The apartment's true structure is quite simple; the room that the front door opens into is undeniably the largest, used as a living area. The living room then breaks into a miniature kitchen, distant though not severed from the former room. Beside the kitchen a generous amount of space takes up Magnus' bedroom and beside that a claustrophobic bathroom, barely big enough to fit even half of its owner's beauty products.

The apartment, similar to the other four situated in varied areas on the floor, was rectangular. All the others held the exact same measurements, filling the row that would be directly above the bar if it weren't for the floor while another row of doors mimicked them on the other side, though those rooms were filled with oppressive offices instead of semi-comfortable homes. This put Magnus' apartment in the only possible situation to hold any variation of size, something that Camille often stated was _very _unfair.

Despite the simplistic nature, Magnus had added his own touch to the home over time. A leopard print loveseat occupies the space in front of the ancient square television that Magnus got from a yard sale a few years back. The living set pairs with the magenta patterned rug parallel to the loveseat to create an unlikely yet tasteful combination. A plethora of notes written by ex-lovers and doodles drawn by friends stick to the walls, turning something cold into a comfortable atmosphere. Mingled along with the occasional pair of skin-tight leather pants, consistent puffs of snow white cat fur and of course a persistent layer of glitter that, even if Magnus _did _clean, he wouldn't be sure he could rid the apartment of, the place _definitely_ held his personal touch.

Grinning at his home, Magnus takes a few steps forward, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and hairspray. Suddenly his bed is the last pair of Jimmy Choos in the entire store and he _needs_ them. Ignoring the rumbling complaints of his stomach, begging for food, Magnus follows the living room to his bedroom. But the second he flicks the light on he sees an unexpected sight.

Magnus blinks twice before opening his mouth. "Alec, I didn-" His favourite pair of lips crash down on his own fiercely, instantly eradicating any want to speak from his mind. A growl grows in his chest as he's pushed back against the door. Strong, athlete's fingers tangle themselves into his hair, arcing his lips ever closer to the boy's in front of him. His tongue flicks out against the outer side of the paler boy's lips, enticing a shiver from the other boy. His lips quip into a smirk before he's pulled from the kiss, his eyes narrowing in need of explanation.

"I just…" Alec begins, his eyes dark and his breathing shallow, "-I need you tonight." He decides, his eyes meeting Magnus'. The taller of the two shivers, being dragged back to a not-so-long-ago memory.

"Then take me." He hisses before following his own advice.

- x – x – x – x – x –

**AN: I'm not completely sure where this story is going; I haven't exactly planned it out. It's more of a filler story while I finish planning my Isabelle/Simon fic (which is turning out to look more like a saga). Anyway, hopefully it will just come to me and will make at least a little bit of sense.**

**Warning, my rate of updating will possibly be quite erratic as its not a fic I'm planning on becoming too invested in. Could vary from every two days to every month.**

**Also warning, I'm lazy and don't like editing my own stuff so I never reread it and I'm too awkward to approach a beta so my writing just sucks.**

**If you read please review. I'd love to know what you like and what you don't like so much. Makes it easier to know what to add and leave out in the following chapters.**

_**xoxo, Luce**_


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